


In My Head

by tsukkisglasses



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-07
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:27:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24597490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tsukkisglasses/pseuds/tsukkisglasses
Summary: He hates it when people get into his head, most of all, he hates when people try to break his walls. Somehow, talking to you makes things easier.
Relationships: Tsukishima Kei/Reader
Kudos: 84





	In My Head

After dating Tsukishima for the past few months, you’ve come to notice the little things about him. He prefers sweet strawberries over the sour ones. He doesn’t like when people ask stupid or obvious questions. You know the things he hides from people, even Yamaguchi. In the midst of all of that, you can see the person he wants to be. He doesn’t talk about it often, his passions or his future. Whenever you ask about volleyball, he laughs it off or gives you a vague answer. You can tell his insecurities get the better of him because he always has something that he thinks he can be better at. 

So when he invited you over to watch a movie at his house, you eagerly accepted. You smiled as he asked, imagining the pictures his mom has of him and his brother or the knick-knacks he keeps on his desk. 

Friday comes and as you put away the broom, you catch a glimpse of a figure in the doorway. It’s Tsukishima leaning against the door frame, a hand stuffed into his pocket while the other scrolls through his phone. He seems preoccupied with whatever he’s doing, probably fixing up one of his many playlists. You grab your bag from your desks’ handle, running up to your boyfriend. A smile plasters itself on your face as his eyes meet yours. 

“Kei, are you waiting for me?” You tease, jabbing your finger into his chest. Even through his uniform, you can feel the lines and muscles that consume his sculpted upper body. 

He rolls his eyes, earning you a scoff. “You’re not that special, [y/n].” You giggle at his answer, knowing that he’s just joking.

Although his humor is a bit mean-spirited and sometimes you can’t tell if he’s joking or not, you know he wouldn’t even be with you if he didn’t like you. You can’t deny the fact that you wish you could change him, but only in the small ways. You wish he was nicer to his teammates, that he wouldn’t lash out so easily, or that he was more open with his feelings. Deep down, you know you can’t force it out of him. That’s why you try your best to be gentle with him, at least when he actually opens up about himself. You can take his jabs and you can quip back at him, but because you understand the fragility of his emotions, you know when to lay off. 

On the walk to his house, the wind turns chilly. But not the pins-and-needles type of chilly. The type that brushes the hair out of your face and leaves a warm feeling on your exposed skin. You keep close to Tsukki, your right hand brushing knuckles with his left. You exhale quietly, enjoying the comfortable silence between you two. 

That’s the thing he loves about your relationship. You don’t need to talk or text 24/7 to understand the hidden language of your love. His love isn’t outward, instead, he loves inwardly. He shows his love for you through the smallest acts of affection that others would probably brush off. He brings you an extra pencil on test days, because you somehow _always_ forget. He buys you an extra juice box from the vending machine without you having to ask. He isn’t one for PDA, or even surprises. _He hates surprises._ He likes the well-spread out format of the relationship, everything is clear to see. There are never any secrets. 

He appreciates the smallest things you do, too, even if they’re not intentional. He likes when you poke your tongue out of your mouth when you’re putting a lot of thought into your math homework. He admires that you remain humble in the face of opposition; that you uplift your friends instead of tearing them down. He thinks it’s cute when you absentmindedly play with his fingers.

You both remove your shoes as you enter his house, taking care to place them next to each other neatly. His mom comes out of the kitchen, an apron adorning her body. She’s wiping her hands with a washcloth, a warm smile from ear to ear. She greets you kindly, asking how your day was. 

“It was good, thank you. How was yours?” You ask in response. You stutter across your words when she pokes fun at your relationship with Tsukishima, her laugh echoing off the walls and filling the room. She tells Tsukishima to set the table, explaining dinner is almost ready. He nods obediently and sets his bag down, hurrying off to the kitchen in an embarrassed panic. 

Her warm hands engulf your cold ones, instantly warming them up. Her finger doesn’t wear a ring, and you remember that Tsukishima doesn’t talk about his father often. The thought leaves your head as his mother begins to speak.

“You know, Kei has told me a lot about you. It doesn’t seem like he would, right?” She chuckles lightly. “I can tell he’s fond of you. You seem very good for him.”

Her words swell your heart with a feeling of warmth you’ve never felt before. Your heart feels fuzzy, and suddenly you’re fighting back the tears that well in your eyes. You hope it’s not noticeable as you speak, “really? I’m glad he thinks so. I really want the best for him, as well.” 

Dinner went better than you both expected. He thought his mother would ask you weird and personal questions, but she kept the conversation lighthearted and asked about your goals in life. Akiteru joined in here and there, mostly remarking about the times he practiced volleyball with Tsukishima. You laughed when they joked about what he was like as a kid, and the funny memories he’s imprinted in their minds. 

He plops down onto his bed as he recalls dinner, “she’s really nosy sometimes.” He sighs and rests his elbows on his knees. He watches you pointedly as you press your left hip against his desk, reaching for a book that’s haphazardly placed near the edge. You push it back onto the desk to avoid its fall, noticing that he keeps tiny, dorky statues of dinosaurs under the lamp.

“She was really kind, Kei. Don’t worry about it,” you say in an attempt to quell his worries. At first, it seems like he’s upset about the dinner or that he’s irritated by his family. With further inspection, you notice that he’s worrying about whether or not you like them. “They’re really nice to be around.” 

He changes the subject quickly by turning on the TV. He mutters “c’mere” and you oblige. He hands you the remote, telling you to chose whatever you want. He falls back on his bed, the impact reverberating throughout the entire mattress. You skim through your options, not taking particular interest in any of them. 

Tsukishima crosses his arms over his eyes, breathing in and out for a few minutes before you break the silence. While staring at the TV, skipping through the movie category of Netflix, you ask him if he’s feeling okay. 

He lifts his arms just enough to look up at you, noting that your hair looks softer than usual against the dim light emitting from the TV. You turn your head towards him, giving him a soft smile. “You’ve seemed distracted the entire day, so that’s why I’m asking.” 

“You don’t need to worry about that.” He immediately regrets his words as soon as he sees your smile falter. Your eyebrows furrow in confusion, wondering why he’s being so sharp tongued. He rests his arms over his eyes again, “did you choose something yet?” 

You put the remote down by your thigh, placing a hand on his chest. His eyes meet yours again, and even in the dim setting, you can see the golden specks in his whiskey-colored eyes. They’re beautiful. You think you’ll always lose yourself in them, even when you meet for the last time. They’re always bright, even when he’s in a dull mood. They’re magnetizing, the intensity of them unmatched against his fierce personality. 

“Tsukki...I just want to let you know that it’s okay to be open, alright? You don’t need to hide what you’re feeling around me. I want to be there for you, even if you don’t need me right now.” You explain your support for him in a gentle tone, your soft voice filling the space between you two. Your hand moves from his chest to his right hand, taking hold of it. His slender fingers interlock with yours, and you take notice to the warmth he emits. _Maybe he’s just nervous._

His eyes turn to slits as he mentally questions why you’re suddenly bringing it up. Did he push you too far today? No, couldn’t be. He really liked the conversation you had earlier during history. Was he being rude at dinner? No..he smiled whenever you spoke. 

“I know you’re probably wondering why I’m even bringing it up...” Your voice trails off. You begin to quietly ramble about how you’ve always wanted to be there for him, even if it meant just being his friend. How you want to help him power through his struggles and understand that he has a lot of talent behind his ferocity. 

He cuts you off, “I just don’t like to expect a lot from people. Or anything, actually.” You tilt your head, posing the invisible question of “why?” 

“When I was younger, my brother lied to me about being Karasuno’s ace. It seems stupid, but to me, I was really hurt when I went to a match and saw him in the stands. From that, I learned that if I leave room for disappointment, my expectations won’t be as high. I won’t be hurt if I fail.” 

His voice is dull. Like he’s said this a million times over and is comfortable to the melancholic feeling his words radiate. You nod in response, not wanting to interrupt his flow. You run the pad of your thumb along his knuckle, the action causing him to yank you closer to his chest. Your head falls onto his chest, your eardrums becoming fixated on his rhythmic heart beat. Your fingers are interlocked with his, and he takes his other hand to your back, his fingers toying with the hem of your cardigan. 

He continues as his eyes flutter shut, “I just don’t want to be sad when someone leaves. Or when something doesn’t go the way I want it to. When I didn’t see my brother on the court, I got into an argument with another kid. He told me that my brother had lied to me, that Karasuno’s ace didn’t have blonde hair. It took everything inside me to not hate my brother when I saw him in those stands. You know, [y/n]... I think when you leave is the only time I’ll let myself be visibly disappointed.” 

His heart rate picks up at the idea of the break up. He knows that the relationships is still fresh, but he wants nothing more than to relish in the idea of you forever. He wants to grow up with you - no - he wants to grow _in_ with you. His realizes his heart is banging against his chest when he hears it in his ears. He’s dreamed of a future with you since you confessed to him. He wants to hold your hands when they’re cold and kiss your cheeks when you’re blushing. He wants to hold you close when you’re crying. He wants to be with you for a long time, but he struggles to find the right words to tell you. 

“You shouldn’t think of the end of something that’s barely started.” You move your head so you’re staring up at your boyfriend, “I want to stay with you for a long time, Kei. Please don’t bottle up your emotions like that. You’ll only make someone else the backlash of your pain. I want to be there for you as much as I can.” Your voice breaks mid sentence, and you don’t try to stop the tear that flows down your cheek. It catches at the bridge of your nose, falling onto his shirt. You yank your fingers away from his to quickly wipe the tear, sniffling as you do so. 

His hand gravitates towards your face, his thumb wiping away the trail the tear left. His heart twangs at the sound of your crying. He tightens his other arm around your waist, making sure there’s little space between your chests. He doesn’t care if you can hear his heartbeat anymore. 

“Don’t cry, dumbass...” he trails. His nickname makes you giggle even with a stuffed nose. “I-I want to be with you for a long time, too, [y/n].” He admits. 

He feels the lobes of his ears heat up, the feeling being all too familiar. It only happens when he’s talking about you. His friends tease him for it so he tries to hide it as much as he can, grateful for the dull lighting in his room. He pushes himself up to an upright position, his strong arm carrying your weight with him. His fingers take hold of your chin when you’re both sitting up.

The feeling of your soft skin against his fingers lights his heart on fire. You look up at him with softened eyes that call for his love and affection. He knows that look from miles away. It’s adorable. 

He presses his lips against yours, his hand moving to cup your cheek. The grasp around your waist grows tighter, causing you to rake your fingers through his blonde tresses. Your lips fit perfectly together, the feeling of his slightly chapped lips fueling the blush for your cheeks. He swears he can hear your heartbeat as your lips move in unison, almost like they’re perfectly molded for one another. You both pull away from the kiss, your foreheads touching. The tips of your noses bump together which causes a soft chuckle to escape his lips. 

He closes his eyes, his voice barely above a whisper. He speaks as if you’re the only person in the world left to hear him, “I love you, [y/n.]” 


End file.
